


Arms

by Viscariafields



Series: Leandra Hawke [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, UST, bed sharing, between act 1 and 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26111641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viscariafields/pseuds/Viscariafields
Summary: Stranded on the Wounded Coast, the party decides to camp in a cave. Fenris finds himself irritated at how easily Hawke falls asleep as well as who she is snuggling.~~In which Fenris fails to correctly identify any of the feelings he's having.
Relationships: Fenris/Female Hawke
Series: Leandra Hawke [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1462840
Comments: 16
Kudos: 95





	Arms

Normally Fenris would not mind the rain falling in deafening sheets which dulled the sharp edges of the Wounded Coast. It was not their first time having to camp because of a sudden deluge. The weather of his adopted home was as temperamental as its citizens, and it suited him fine. On long evenings like this one, when sleep eluded him, the roar of rain could provide a pleasant enough distraction.

Tonight, however, he wished the rain would let up and the paths would dry out so he could walk home to the solitude of his empty mansion.

When the rain had started, Aveline had pointed at the mouth of a cave, and they had run. Once sheltered, however, they found the entire cavern collapsed, barely enough room in the entrance for them all to stretch out in relative dryness. There was no room for a fire, or anything dry to even burn, and Fenris’s toes were bitterly cold.

This was not what was irking him.

Hawke was the source of his irritation.

He couldn’t say why. She was asleep. She wasn’t snoring. She had left him ample room, carefully placing her bedroll to give him as much space as possible. So much so, that she had ended pressed up against Varric, who was also asleep and didn’t seem to mind.

As a rule, sleeping people did not bother Fenris. The behavior of sleeping people was reliable and seldom a problem. The biggest threat was getting kicked, and rarely with any real force.

So he could not say why Hawke, sleeping soundly with her face pressed to Varric’s shoulder, was irritating him.

But she was.

He was usually content to watch the show—lightning in the sky and the torrent of rain into the ocean—but tonight his wakeful eyes kept settling on her. And Varric’s arm. Mostly her.

He leaned his back against his small patch of cavern wall, feet stretched in front of him, and considered whether she had lied to him.

She had been quieter since the Deep Roads. Wealth settled on her shoulders like heavy armor a size too large, dragging her down into quiet reverie. She admitted to him with weary eyes she was having trouble sleeping after years of sharing a bed with Bethany. For once he could commiserate—not with the company, but with the insomnia.

“We used to dream of having our own rooms,” she had confessed, head in her hand, “No one to steal the covers or talk in her sleep or do that thing everyone does, you know, that little twitchy spasm everyone has when falling asleep. Bethany was all elbows. Just a large bed, and I could sleep with my hands and feet stretched to each corner, and nobody would bother me all night.”

Only Hawke returned from the Deep Roads, Bethany’s fate still unknown. She had gone out and bought the largest bed she could find, with curtains that closed for complete privacy she’d never experienced before. And she stretched out, and rolled over, and kicked to her heart’s delight—

“And I can’t sleep,” she had told him. “She used to warm the bed with her magic in the winter. We never had cold feet. When we were little, she cried sometimes in her sleep and would nestle against me. And she kicked and whined and complained whenever I got up too early, and she was like a little furnace, so I’d wake up all sweaty, and she’d scream when Carver nailed her braid to the bed. And I have all this space to myself and I can’t sleep.”

Instead she fell asleep at the table, little by little. He watched her eyes droop and her head bob as she pretended to listen to Varric, her body leaning dangerously to the side. When she leaned back in her chair, he knew it was over. Her head lolled to the side, and then, surprisingly, onto his shoulder, where it settled.

Fenris had sat very still, not returning the questioning look Varric gave him, or any of the other looks shot his way. It was… flattering to play the role of Bethany for Hawke. After her time in the Roads, he wasn’t certain she’d have any use for him. But she came around, more often now that she lived close by, and he found the weight of her head on his shoulder was not unwelcome. 

And yet she fell asleep quickly enough out here on the stony ground. They put the bedrolls down, nibbled on some rations while trying not to shiver, no mages in sight to warm her bedroll, and then it seemed in mere minutes she had dropped off to sleep, her head resting against Varric a minute after that.

So. Despite her claims, it seemed sleeplessness was not plaguing her _too_ terribly.

Another voice inside of him, one that was calmer and kept insisting he should stop staring at Hawke and try to get some sleep himself, suggested that perhaps weariness of the day contributed to her ease in slumber. And that her complaint had been lack of company, not any of the reasons that kept Fenris from sleeping.

Bitterly, he retorted to himself, perhaps _any_ warm body was a suitable replacement for Bethany.

And why should he care on whose arm Hawke slept?

This was a question that had no answer.

He did sleep, eventually. He carefully turned away from Hawke, choosing to face the cavern wall.

He awoke to a groan from Aveline, a muttered, “Varric, my arm has gone numb.”

There was no roar of rain, just birdsong and the shifting of bodies in a tight space. His own arm was feeling uncomfortable, and he found he couldn’t move it. Opening his eyes reluctantly, certain he had only just closed them, all he saw was white. He blinked, and Hawke’s hair came into focus with the rest of the top of her head.

She had claimed his arm as a pillow. He felt a minor satisfaction at that, even as his fingers tingled and his skin complained. Given the choice, she had chosen his arm over Varric’s.

He knew it should not matter, and yet it did.

As he took in his surroundings, however, he realized the truth of their position. Fenris had moved entirely to Hawke’s bedroll, his feet tucked under for legs for warmth. His own bedroll lay abandoned behind him, and in his unconscious movement toward Hawke, he had caused Varric to squish Aveline against the far wall.

Hawke woke up in a rush, jerking upright. With her hand in her hair, she looked around, glancing over her shoulder where Fenris’s body lay curled around her, not touching anymore, but close.

He had just caught the hint of a flush on her face, one he felt mirrored on his own, when she turned back toward Aveline and Varric. “Well,” she sighed, “That’s what we get for trying to sleep on a slope. Another hour or two and we’d all be in a pile against the wall.”

Aveline grunted, but Varric gave Fenris a look—not questioning this time so much as knowing the answer. Fenris rubbed his aching arm while ignoring the scrutiny. Hawke stood up, stretching, her fingers just touching the roof of their caves while she stood on her toes. Fenris watched her, once again finding his eyes naturally settling on her, this time without any irritation.

She gave him a small smile, which he felt himself returning. She seemed to be waiting for something, but he didn’t know what. “Do you mind if I…?” She gestured at the bedroll.

Fenris scrabbled to his feet to allow her to pack it away. “Of course.”

On the road, Varric led the group, eager to be home and warm as soon as possible. Fenris was happy for the opportunity to talk to Hawke without his eyes traveling between the two of them.

“I am glad that I came on this excursion,” he told her. 

“Really? Smugglers and rain and muck and sleeping on—” and here she stumbled over her words with a flush— “on hard rocks?”

“I enjoy following you,” was his simple reply, “And I… slept well enough. For me.”

“So did I,” she responded slowly, adding, “Even with your cold feet on my shins.”

Fenris paused. “You noticed that?”

“Would you notice if I shoved a piece of ice down your shirt?” she laughed.

Fenris trailed her after that, taking up the rear. He knew he should feel embarrassed. He was embarrassed. He was not—he had never snuggled a person before. But he also felt… he felt the weight of her head on his arm, the quiet sound of her breathing, the way she smiled at him in the morning. It was… nice. He could imagine doing it again, with the right person.


End file.
